


A Family of my Own

by W1036416



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Initial non-con
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-02 00:30:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20949737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/W1036416/pseuds/W1036416
Summary: While training with the Faceless Men, a girl sees someone from her past.  What happens when they meet?  What happens in the years that follow?





	1. Chapter 1

She’d seen him.  
He hadn’t seen her, she’d been to careful for that, but she had seen him.  
In the three years since they’d been together, he hadn’t changed much. His hair sat a little longer on his neck, but that was about it.  
His muscles had rippled as he struck the hammer down upon the molten steel and that was all it took for images, memories, feelings to come flooding back to her.  
“A girl is No One,” she said to herself. “A girl should not have feelings.”  
But this didn’t stop her from going back again. And again. And again.  
Finally, using another’s face, she spoke to him and gave him a small smile.  
He looked up, returned the greeting, and went back to his work.  
A girl was filled with disappointment, but she would not give up.  
Everyday for a fortnight, she would pass his shop, say hello and smile.  
And everyday he would stop his work, return the greeting and continue with whatever he had been doing.  
A girl wanted a smile, but a man seemed sad.  
A girl thought about giving up. Today would be the last day that a girl would say hello and smile.  
Today was the first day that a man smiled back.

It took two moons for a man to kiss a girl.  
A girl was thrilled, even though a girl knew that she was No One, and No One should feel nothing.  
It took another three moons for a man to lie with a girl.  
A man hadn’t wanted to, had seemed reluctant, until a girl slipped something in his drink.  
A girl had known it was wrong and that she shouldn’t do it. But a girl needed to feel, needed to feel it from this man.  
A girl, in a previous life, had known this man. Had loved this man. Had thought this man was dead. Which is why a girl had become No One.  
A girl had been trained in the art of seduction. Had been taught to bring a man to his knees.  
A girl led a man to an upstairs room, closed the door and dropped to her knees unlacing a man’s breeches.  
A girl wrapped her warm mouth around a man’s cock and licked and sucked until it stood upright. A man’s hands wrapped themselves in a girl’s hair his breathing coming hard and fast.  
A girl pushed a man onto the bed and removed her clothing. A girl then straddled a man, pushing his hard cock into her tight passage, sliding up and down its thick length.  
A man gripped a girl’s hips forcing her to move faster.  
A man shot his seed deep into the belly of a girl, calling out a name, “Arya”.  
A girl cried out in pleasure and was flooded with memories.  
A girl was not No One. A girl was Arya Stark.

Over the next few moons a girl’s body and mind began to change.  
As the baby inside her grew, a girl became No One no longer. A girl was returning to being Arya Stark.  
When the child inside her had only three moons left, Arya Stark was complete.  
Turning to a man, Jaqen H’ghar, she said, “A girl is Arya Stark and I am going home.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the interest in this story. This is the 1st time I've posted on here so any suggestions on tags etc are appreciated.

Things did not go as planned, after Arya left the House of Black and White.  
She remembered three years previous, and how easy it had been to travel from Westeros to Braavos. All she’d had to do was show the iron coin Jaqen had given her and the Captain had given her everything she’d needed without question.  
Now, however, three years on, not a single captain was prepared to take her. It had nothing to do with gold, for she had plenty of that. No, no one wanted to take a heavily pregnant girl on what could be a six week trip.  
Resigned to the fact that she wasn’t going to be going home anytime soon, Arya went looking for somewhere to stay.  
Entering the third week, since leaving the Faceless Men, and having just two moons left until the babe was born, she was beginning to get desperate. She still hadn’t found anywhere long term, despite having plenty of gold. None of the inn keeps wanted a pregnant girl on her own under their roofs. The longest she’d been allowed to stay anywhere had been four nights.  
Eating a final meal in the latest of a long line of inns, Arya was approached by a young boy. He was dressed in smart breeches and an expensive looking leather tunic.  
“Excuse me, but I believe my Lady mother may be able to help you.”  
He spoke with the eloquence and education of a highborn Westrosi.  
“Please, finish your food, and then, if it pleases you, My Lady, come with me.”  
“I’m not a Lady,” Arya said, automatically.  
The young boy sat down opposite Arya, who gave him a look that said, ‘_I didn’t give you permission to sit_.’  
“My Lady mother believes that you are, and wishes to help you during your current situation. Please, if you’ll come with me.”  
Arya looked at the boy again. He seemed genuine, and she couldn’t hear any lies in what he was saying. It wouldn’t do any harm to meet this woman. She could always leave if she thought something was wrong. “What is your name?” she asked him.  
“Jeor,” came the boys reply.  
“And what age are you?”  
“I have not yet celebrated my tenth name day.”  
“Then come, Jeor, lead the way.”

Jeor led her out of the inn and into the streets of Braavos. They walked for about 15 minutes before arriving at a non-descript building.  
He opened the door, and led her inside. “Mother, we have returned,” he said.  
“She came?” a female voice replied, with a hint of relief.  
“She did.”  
“Please take her into the solar, she shouldn’t be on her feet for so long in her condition. I shall be there presently.”  
Arya was led into a pleasant room and Jeor motioned for her to sit.  
As soon as she had, the lady of the house appeared. Arya made to stand, but the lady stopped her.  
“Please, Lady Stark, do not stand.”  
A look of surprise appeared on Arya’s face. She hadn’t been called that for many years. But she shook it off immediately. “I’m sorry, but I do not know of whom you speak.”  
“My name, Lady Stark, is Lady Ireena Crane. I was however born Ireena Mormont. I know who you are because you are the double of my childhood friend, your aunt, Lyanna.”


	3. Chapter 3

The following two weeks were the most comfortable Arya had had in a very long time. She hadn’t felt so relaxed and safe in many years. She was taken back to days at Winterfell, when she would chase Rickon around the halls and corridors. Where she would best Bran at archery and watch longingly while Jon, Robb and Theon would spar in the courtyard.  
She thought about Sansa, the looks of disdain on her face when Arya did something unladylike, and the way her mother looked disappointed while her father looked on proudly.  
Lady Ireena told stories of when she had been a girl visiting Winterfell. How she and Lyanna would run around in the Godswood, climbing trees and splashing in the lake. How they used to bathe in the hot springs and tease Lyanna’s brothers.  
But, however nice the days were, the nights were the opposite.  
Arya dreamed of her father, kneeling on the steps of the Sept, declaring himself a traitor. She saw Sansa’s face as she realised that he was about to be executed.  
She saw the Lannister men kill Yoren, as she was trying to make her way north with the Night’s Watch recruits. And she saw Gendry being tortured at Harrenhall, before Tywin Lannister put a stop to it.   
After one particularly disturbing night, of dreaming about the fight with the Waif, where she had received the two nasty scars to her right side, she woke in excruciating pain. Heart racing and sweat coating her body, Arya tried to get up and make her way to the water basin in the corner of the room, hoping to cool and calm herself down. As her feet touched the warm tiled floor, she screamed out in the worst pain she’d ever imagined.  
Water and blood gushed down her thighs as her knees gave way and she collapsed to the floor.  
Ireena was with her in a matter of moments.  
“Arya, don’t panic. You’re going to be fine.”  
“Wh… what’s happening?” Arya gasped, as another surge of pain travelled through her body.  
“The baby is coming, that’s all. You’re going to be fine. Jeor, go quickly and fetch the Maester, the baby is coming now!”  
Arya heard the main door close as Ireena called the servants to help get her back into bed.  
“I’m afraid,” Arya admitted.  
“Of course you are, my girl. Every woman feels fear when they are about to bring a new life into the world.”  
“Stay with me?” Arya asked, sounding like the little girl she hadn’t been in such a long time.  
Ireena clasped her hand, “I’m not going to go anywhere.”  
Another bout of pain came over her as the Maester and Jeor returned. The Maester took one look and demanded warm water and cloths.  
“The babe is almost here,” he told Ireena. “When I tell you, I need you to push down as hard as you can. Can you do that?” the Maester asked Arya.  
Gasping through the now almost constant pain, Arya nodded.  
“All right then, push!”  
Arya pushed with every ounce of strength she had left. She kept pushing until an infant’s cry broke through.  
“Is it… is it okay?” Arya asked, exhaustion threatening to overtake her.  
“He’s perfect. You have a very healthy son.” The Maester replied.  
“A boy?” Arya queried.  
“Yes, a boy. Have you any ideas for a name?” Ireena asked.  
“Eddard. His name is Eddard.”


	4. Chapter 4

She’d only meant to stay a few weeks, until she’d recovered from Eddard’s birth. Then it was a few months, until Eddard was more settled and able to travel such a distance.  
Now, out of nowhere, they were about to celebrate Eddard’s tenth name day.  
Whilst making preparations for the small gathering, Lady Ireena took Arya aside. “I think it’s time my dear.”  
“Time for what?” Arya replied, though she had a very good idea of what she was talking about.  
“I think, no, I know, that it’s time for you to go home. You’ve heard the stories coming from Westeros, they say that the Dragon Queen has finally arrived to take the Iron Throne and that your brother, Jon Snow, has been made King of the North.”  
“And how old are these stories? You know how long it can take to actually hear fact from Westeros.”  
Lady Ireena paused. “They are also saying that ‘Winter Has Come’. You know what that means.”  
Arya sighed. “I know._ ‘When the snows fall, and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives'_.”  
“Your grandfather used to say that.” Ireena said.  
“I’ve become the lone wolf, haven’t I?”  
“As much as I would love to say no, I believe you have. You need to return home, to your family. To your pack. And as much as I would love you to stay here, you need to leave soon.”  
Arya felt defeated. “I shall start making plans after Eddard’s name day. We should be gone by the half moon.”  
“I would ask something from you, Arya.” Ireena said.  
“Name it.”  
“I, Lady Ireena of House Crane, formally ask you, Lady Arya of House Stark, heiress to Winterfell, to take my son, Lord Jeor Crane, as your ward,” Ireena said with a tear in her eye.  
“He’s a bit old to be a ward,” Arya replied with a small smile.  
“I meant, will you take him with you?”  
“I know what you meant, but why? You’ll be left all alone.”  
“I don’t have that many name days left in me. I can feel it. I can’t bear the thought of Jeor being on his own once I’m gone. To know he is with you will allow me to go to the God of Death in peace.”  
“Not today,” Arya said automatically.  
“No, not today,” Ireena said with a smile.  
“After everything you have done for me and my son, how could I say no? I, Lady Arya of House Stark, promise to take Lord Jeor Crane, not as my ward but as my travelling companion. I promise to take him home, to Bear Island, where he can meet his family and set his life accordingly.”  
Ireena took Arya’s hand. “Thank you.”

The next ten days were a flurry of activity.  
Knowing that once they’d arrived in Westeros they would be travelling by foot or by horse, they only packed what could be carried on their backs or in saddle bags.  
Anything they had but didn’t need, or couldn’t be used by Lady Ireena, was sold to the local merchants. Thus, making sure they had enough gold to make it north through Westeros. Arya remembered what it had been like to sleep outside with not enough food in her belly as a child, and she certainly wasn’t going to allow Eddard to go through that.  
On their last night in Braavos, Eddard found Arya sharpening needle. It hadn’t been needed in so long that the blade had gone dull.  
“Are you all ready, sweetheart?” Arya asked him.  
“I think so. Mother, do we really need to go?” he asked.  
Arya looked at her son. He was the image of his father, with dark brown hair and ocean deep blue eyes.  
She sighed. “I’m afraid we do. We should have gone many years ago. I actually tried to go back before you were born. I wanted you to be born in Winterfell. My birthplace, and the birthplace of every Stark going back thousands of years to the time of the First Men.”  
“Will you be taking your faces?” he asked.  
“My what?”  
“Your faces. I found them a few years ago and knew what they were straight away. I remembered your stories of how you trained with the Faceless Men before I was born. Will you be taking them?”  
Arya looked at her son with a mix of fear and admiration.  
“And did they scare you?”  
“No. Why would they? They’re only faces.”  
Arya smiled. “Yes. I will be taking them with me. You are so smart and brave. Now, we have an early start tomorrow, go get yourself to bed.”  
“Just one more question?”  
“Go on then.”  
“Actually, it’s two. Will I meet my father and do you think he’ll like me?”  
Arya was suddenly reminded that her son was only a little boy and reached for him, pulling him on to her lap. “I think that our situation is not a normal one. But should he still be living and should you one day meet, I think he could do nothing but love you.”  
She kissed her son on the forehead. “Now, get to bed.”  
“I love you, Mother.”  
“I love you, too,” she said as he left the room.  
The following morning came all too fast for Arya. She wished she could just hide away forever, here on the island of Bravos, with her son and her friends. But she knew that it wasn’t possible. She needed to get back to Westeros. She needed to get back to her pack.


	5. Chapter 5

Gendry stood looking out from the window. The window of the room Queen Daenerys Targaryen had given him three years ago as she’d legitimised him and made him Lord Gendry Baratheon, Lord of Storm’s End.  
He watched as the rough, grey sea crashed on the rocks that surrounded Dragonstone and thought back to where he had come from.  
From the age of ten he had been an armourer’s apprentice, with Tobho Mott, on the Street of Steel. But that had come to an end when he had been sold to the Night’s Watch recruiter at six and ten.  
Gods the last fifteen years of his life had been filled with so many ups and downs. He had found friends and lost them, either through death or them going their own way. He had been tortured and almost killed on more than one occasion. He’d travelled further than he’d ever thought possible, going to Braavos. He’d been there for three years, learning how to work with Valyrian steel under some of the best.  
He remembered the day that Davos had found him again, back in Flea Bottom. Back where he’d started.  
_He had his back to the door, running a rag along a newly forged sword._  
_ “Wasn’t sure I’d find ya, thought you might still be rowing.”_  
_ He’d turned to see Davos standing there, in the doorway of his shop._  
_ “I looked in shops, taverns, brothels. Should have known to come straight to the Street of Steel.”_  
_ “Aren’t you worried about the Goldcloaks?” he’d asked._  
_ “Haven’t been here in years. Why should they recognise me? Sometimes I hardly do. Nothing fucks you harder than time. Anybody give you any trouble?”_  
_ “Here I am, arming Lannister’s, and I never get a second look. But, you were right. The safest place for me was right under the Queen’s nose.”_  
_ “Don’t be so sure, safety is never a permanent state of affairs. Bad things are coming.” Davos had said._  
_ “You came to get me. You want me to come with you.” It hadn’t been a question, just a statement of fact._  
_ “Well. The thing you need to understand is…” Davos had started to say, but Gendry had interrupted him._  
_ “I’m ready, let’s go.”_  
_ “You should know what you’re heading into.”_  
_ “What do you think I’ve been thinking about with every swing of the hammer? How happy I am? Making weapons for the family who killed my father, the family that tried to kill me? I’ve been getting ready. I never knew what for, but I’ve always known I’d know when it comes.”_  
They’d left that minute, and three weeks later he’d walked through the gates of Winterfell.

He’d always known that he’d end up there. He hadn’t known how, but he had been determined to make it to Arya’s home.  
Arya.  
The only girl he’d ever loved. The only girl he would ever love.  
It had been nearly fourteen years since he’d been taken by the red woman. Fourteen years since he’d last seen her.  
She’d been a child. A young girl, only just starting into the way of womanhood. Breasts only just starting to develop, that you could only see if you knew they were there. And a slight sway of her hips as she walked. He’d been annoyed with himself, at the time, for thinking about her like that. But as the years passed and he grew older, the image of her in his mind had grown older too.  
She would be six and twenty now, standing only a few inches taller than she had been when he’d last seen her. Her skin smooth and milky white. A slim waist and breasts firm and not to big that they would just fill his hands.  
He gets hard as he imagines the purse of her lips when she gasps as his mouth covers the hard, pink nipple, and he has to take himself in his hand. With only a few hard strokes his cock explodes.  
Breathing hard he walks to the wash basin to clean himself up.  
There is a noise from the bed as the covers are adjusted.  
“Gendry?”  
“Mmm.”  
“Come back to bed,” comes a sleepy voice.  
“As you command, My Queen.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick note to say thank you to everyone who has given kudos and left comments. It really does mean a lot.  
Some of you have noticed that this story is already on FF. I will be posting a chapter a day up till 10 and then updating on both at the same time. xx

The planning meeting felt like it had gone on for days instead of hours.  
All Gendry wanted to do was get back to the forge and work on those dragonglass weapons that were going to be so important in the war ahead.  
He was still trying to get the consistency of it right so that they wouldn’t shatter on contact, but for the last few days he’d lost all focus.  
He was brought back to the present by a question.  
“Lord Baratheon, how are things going in regards to the weapons?”  
“Not good, My Lord,” he replied honestly. “We’ve had an idea of mixing the dragonglass with steel to make them less prone to shattering, but we are still struggling to find the correct consistency. In all honesty, I would really be of more use if I was in the forge rather than here, so if you’ll allow, Your Grace, I’d like to get back as soon as possible.”  
“Of course. You’ll let me know as soon as you have some positive results?” Daenerys replied.  
“Yes, My Queen.”

He left the war room and began making his way down to the forge.  
“Lord Gendry,” a voice behind him said.  
Gendry turned. “Lord Tyrion. Is there something I can help you with?”  
“There is something I need to discuss with you, but it’s not something that should be spoken of in corridors. Please, follow me.”  
Tyrion set off and Gendry realised he had no choice but to follow. They soon arrived at what turned out to be Tyrion’s private rooms. Gendry had never been here before.  
“Please, Lord Gendry, sit down.”  
Gendry sat, “What can I do for you, My Lord?”  
Tyrion looked a bit uncomfortable, but spoke anyway. “I need to ask you a question of a very personal nature. Please, do not take offense, but I really do need to know.”  
“Well, what is it?”  
“Are you, or have you ever shared The Queen’s bed?”  
Gendry was surprised by the question, however he didn’t let it show. In the three years since being made a Lord, he’d learned how to play the game. He knew how to hide his feelings and how to speak to more _‘Lordly’_ Lords.  
“My Lord Tyrion, I don’t really see how this is any of your business. But, I will answer. I am not, nor have I ever shared The Queen’s bed.”  
Tyrion sighed and visibly relaxed.  
“However,” Gendry continued, “I cannot deny that The Queen shares mine.”  
“The Queen comes to you?” Tyrion asked sounding rather flustered.  
“I think, My Lord, that this is something you should discuss with her. It is not my place to talk about The Queen like this.”  
“It is not your place,” Tyrion said, “to be fucking our Queen!”  
“Why? Because I’m a bastard? For your information, Lord Tyrion, I am not, have not, nor will I ever be fucking The Queen!” Gendry said angrily, getting up from his chair. “If you’ll excuse me, My Lord, I have places to be. If you have any more questions about our Queen’s private business, might I suggest that you to take them to her!”  
Gendry stormed from the room, slamming the door behind him.

_Bang!_  
Stupid fucking imp!  
_Bang!_  
How dare he?  
_Bang!_  
Telling me I have no place!  
Gendry was infuriated. What right did Tyrion _‘fucking’_ Lannister have? If he’d been less arrogant, Gendry might have told him the entire truth. Yes, The Queen might come to his bed. And yes, he might pleasure her with his mouth and hands. But he’d never had sex with her!  
He’d only ever lain with three girls. Two in King’s Landing, before he’d been sold to the Night’s Watch, and one in Braavos.  
The girl in Braavos had reminded him of Arya. So much so that he’d called out her name, as he’d shot his seed inside her. And he had later sworn to himself that he would never lay with a woman he didn’t love.  
He was not his father. He would not satisfy his urges with anything in a skirt! He’d rather use his own hand and picture a girl with dark hair and grey eyes. A girl who was more comfortable in a pair of breeches and had a sword hanging at her side.


	7. Chapter 7

The journey from Braavos to White Harbour didn’t seem to take as long as Arya had remembered. Whether that was because she had been a child on the original journey, or the fact that as an adult she didn’t really want to be making it, she didn’t know.

But all too quickly land was in sight.

She looked down at her hands as the gripped the side of the boat, forgetting for a second that they belonged to the serving girl whose face she wore. It had been decided that they would be safer to travel with her not looking like a Stark.

“How will we know it’s you, if you keep changing you face?” Jeor had asked.

It had been decided that Arya would wear a yellow ribbon around her left wrist, no matter which face she wore. That way Eddard and Jeor would know that it was her.

They disembarked just after dawn, and found a tavern to break their fast.

Eating, however, was not the only reason for finding a tavern. They were the best places to pick up all the news without having to actually ask questions.

_ “I heard that the Targaryen has demanded that Jon Snow bend the knee.”_

_ “Well, I heard that the North are preparing for war. They want people to believe that the White Walkers are real.”_

_ “Apparently, the new Lord of Storm’s End has found himself in The Queen’s bed.” “Which Queen?” “The Dragon Queen’s obviously. He’s a Baratheon bastard can’t see him being in Cersei’s.” “Why not? She likes to keep it in the family.”_

“We need to find horses and supplies and start heading north,” Arya told them. “If any of this is true then we have to get to Winterfell as soon as we can.”

“You need to change your face first,” said Jeor. “You can’t travel as a serving girl all that way, you don’t know who we’ll come across.”

“You’re right. Give me ten minutes then meet me outside. You remember how to see that it’s me?”

“Yellow ribbon around your left wrist. We’ve got it Mother. Now go,” Eddard said in a whisper.

Arya got up and walked out the front door. Looking both left and right she spotted a dark, narrow alley. Finding the face of a middle-aged man, she switched it with the one of the serving girl. She then quickly changed her clothes and went to find the boys.

They looked nervous as she approached, until she raised her left arm slightly so that they could see the ribbon.

“Come, m’Lord, we need to find some horses.”

They were on their way within in the hour, having been able to purchase horses and plenty of dried food. Arya, going by the name of Yoren, was even able to get her hands on a bow, a quiver of arrows and a sword more suitable for the disguise she wore.

The journey north was slow but steady. They stopped occasionally at inns and taverns, but most nights were spent around a fire under the stars. It was on these nights that Arya would remove her disguise and tell stories of her childhood growing up in Winterfell.

“I remember one time,” she said, “when I’d escaped from my sewing lessons. Robb and Jon were teaching Bran how to fire an arrow and they’d laughed at him for missing. I remember my Mother and Father were watching from the balcony above and my Father had said to them _‘And which one of you was a marksman at ten? Keep practising Bran’_. So, he’d pulled his bow back and started to aim and just before he released, I fired an arrow right into the bullseye.”

“So, what happened?” asked Eddard. “Did you get into trouble?”

“Actually, no. Not that time. I remember my Mother, Father, Robb and Jon laughing as Bran chased me around the courtyard. After that the King came, and everything changed for my family.”

They sat in silence for a while as Arya thought about the family she would never see again, and Eddard thought about the family he’d never meet.

“How long until we arrive at Winterfell?” Jeor asked.

“If we ride hard tomorrow we should make it before nightfall. Come on, let’s get some sleep, tomorrow we ride. Tomorrow I go home.”

_ She was moving through a forest or wood. She was alone but she didn’t feel fear. She felt eager, full of anticipation._

_ There was a familiar feel to the air. Whatever she was running towards she was getting closer to it._

_ The smells around almost overwhelmed her. How could she know that there was a rabbit den to her right and that she was approaching a herd of deer?_

_ Somehow she knew she was heading in a northerly direction, but where she was going and why she was going there she couldn’t fathom._

_ She slowed as she smelled the fresh, clean water of a stream ahead. How could she smell that? But a drink sounded good._

_ As she stooped towards the water she noticed her reflection. Arya wasn’t looking at herself in the water. She was looking at a wolf._

_ Now Arya understood. It had been so many years since she’d had a wolf dream that she’d forgotten about them. But being back in Westeros and being so close to home she supposed it was only to be expected that they would return to her._

_ Arya spoke inside the wolf’s head._

_ “Come on, Nymeria. Come and find me. I’m heading home, girl. Come with me.”_

_ With a yelp, the wolf set off again._

Arya woke with a start. It was still a few hours until dawn, but she didn’t think she’d be able to fall back to sleep. She restoked the fire and listened to Eddard and Jeor’s breathing as they slept. Hoping that Nymeria made it to her before they had to leave.


	8. Chapter 8

The dawn came slowly for Arya.

She’d sat for hours staring into the flames remembering the last time she’d been heading north to go home.

They’d never made it this close to Winterfell, but there had been a few nights like this. Arya staring into the fire while Hot Pie and Gendry slept beside her.

Thinking of Gendry brought a small smile to her face and an ache began to blossom in her chest.

She looked down at her sleeping son. At _his_ sleeping son. A look of peace on his face. He was the double of his father and anyone who knew Gendry would have no doubt that Eddard was his son, with the mop of dark hair on his head and the ocean deep blue eyes.

Watching her son sleep reminded Arya of the rare occasions, as children, when she’d woken before him. There had been times when her fingers had itched to trace the lines of his jaw and follow the contours of his muscles. She understood now that what she’d felt back then had been the first blossomings of love. And she swore to herself under the light of the moon that if he was living and she saw him again it would be the first thing she said to him.

There was, however, one thing really concerning her. If Gendry was alive, how would she explain Eddard? How could she explain _their_ son? After all, the night Eddard was conceived Arya had been wearing the face of another.

Her musings were interrupted by the cracking of branches in the wood behind her. Slowly Arya stood her hand resting on needle’s pommel. Turning, she saw the massive direwolf walk slowly into the clearing.

“Nymeria,” Arya sighed.

The wolf continued to walk slowly towards her, sniffing the air in front of its nose. Arya styed as still as she could, allowing the large wolf time to recognise her scent.

Before she had time to even realise what was happening, Arya was on her back. The wolf’s front paws pinning her shoulders to the floor. For a split second Arya felt fear, but suddenly she felt a rough tongue slide up her face.

Arya began laughing and crying at the same time. It had been many years since she’d felt such unbridled joy and it was as if the world had been lifted from her shoulders.

The sound of Arya’s laughter had woken Jeor and Eddard. It was a strange sight that met them.

“Lady Arya?” Jeor said hesitantly.

Arya pushed the direwolf from her and got to her feet trying to steady her breathing, with a huge smile on her face and tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Eddard, Jeor, meet Nymeria. Nymeria, these two are pack and pack is to be protected,” Arya said.

Nymeria took a long sniff of the air in front of her, committing the scents to memory. She was obviously happy with the statement for she circled Arya and then lay herself down in front of the fire.

Arya prepared the meal with which they would break their fast and then sat down next to Eddard to eat.

“I’ve been thinking, that it might be best if the two of you were to lodge in Wintertown tonight, instead of coming with me straight to Winterfell,” Arya said.

“Why?” asked Jeor.

“I don’t know what I’ll find when I get there,” she began, “I’m worried about being in a situation that could put you both at risk.” She looked down at her son. “I won’t put you at risk, do you understand? You are the most important thing in my life.”

Eddard nodded.

“I’ll keep him safe,” Jeor said.

“I’ll have Nymeria stay close to you. She won’t be able to show herself for risk of exposing who you are. But she’ll be there should you need her.”

Arya donned the face again, and then allowed Nymeria to sniff her scent, waiting for the wolf to recognise it as Arya’s despite the change of appearance. They then cleaned up their camp, mounted their horses and set off on the last leg of their journey north.

They made much better time than Arya had thought, arriving in Wintertown a good couple of hours before nightfall. She got them settled into one of the better inns and then headed towards Winterfell.

She removed her disguise just before she crested the hill. As she reached the top, she caught sight of the home she hadn’t seen since her childhood. When she was young the place had seemed huge. Now, as a woman grown, it didn’t seem so big.

She dismounted and made her way to the main gate where two guards were stood close to a fire barrel.

“Eh, yup,” said one of the guards. “Where you goin’?”

“In there,” Arya replied. “I live here.”

“Fuck off,” he said.

“I’m Arya Stark. This is my home.”

The guards laughed. “Arya Stark’s dead,” said the second guard.

Arya thought for a moment. “Send for Maester Luwin or Ser Rodrick. They’ll tell you who I am.”

“There’s no Rodrick here,” the second guard said.

“Maester’s name Wolken,” the first guard added.

“Go ask Jon Snow then, the King in the North. He’s my brother.”

The first guard, who was fat and bearded, gave a smirk. “He’s a thousand miles away.”

“Look,” the younger of the guards said, “it’s cold, and we’re busy, so, ya know, best fuck off.”

“Mmmm,” the other one agreed.

“If Jon’s gone, who’s in charge of Winterfell?” Arya questioned.

The guards both rolled their eyes at her. “The Lady of Winterfell. Lady Stark.”

“Which Lady Stark?”

“You tell us. You’re the one impersonating her sister,” the fat one said, sounding as if he was starting to get annoyed.

_ Sansa_, Arya said to herself. I thought she was dead.

“Tell Sansa her sister’s home.”

The fat guard was getting increasingly frustrated. “Lady Sansa is too busy to waste her breath on you, just like us. So, for the last time, fuck off!” He went to strike Arya, but she had seen it coming and was easily able to dodge the blow.

“I’m getting into this castle one way or another. If I’m not who I say I am I won’t last long, but if I am and Sansa finds out you turned me away…” she let her words trail off and gave the two guards time to think about what she’d just said.

She could see the cogs turning in their heads as they realised that they could be in trouble either way, and discussed quietly between them what they were going to do.

Finally, the older one said, “Follow me. I’ll take you to Lady Sansa. If, however, she does not believe who you are, you will be punished.”

“I would expect nothing less,” Arya stated matter of factly.

She followed the guards through the courtyard towards the main hall. They were about halfway across when Arya heard something behind her.

She turned to see what it was and saw a young man sat in a chair that had wheels.

“Hello, Arya,” he said.

“_Bran?_”

“I’m glad you’re home,” he said. He didn’t sound glad, there was no emotion in his voice. “Where have you left my nephew?”

“I… I… What?” Arya stammered.

Bran looked at the guards, “You may leave us. You have done your job, but this is Lady Arya Stark, and I wish to speak with my sister alone.”

“Yes, My Lord,” they said in unison. And bowing their heads they left.

“Come, my sister. We have much that needs to be discussed,” Bran said. “Let us go to the Godswood, where only the old ones can hear.”

Arya had forgotten how beautiful and peaceful the Godswood was. The heart tree sitting large and proud at its centre. Sudden images of her father flooded her mind and a smile spread across her face.

“I always picture father here,” Bran told her.

Arya looked at her younger brother. “What did you mean when you asked about your nephew?”

“I know all about your son, Arya. I may look like Brandon Stark, but I have become so much more. I am now the Three Eyed Raven. I have the memories of every person to have ever lived. I watched you as you stood in the square before our father’s execution. I saw you serve Tywin Lannister at Harrenhall before you escaped. I saw you arrive at The Twins just after the Red Wedding and I watched you leave for Braavos.”

“How… how is this possible?” Arya asked.

“I don’t know exactly. I believe it has something to do with how strong the blood of the first men runs through a Stark’s veins. When I… fell, something was triggered which allowed the transformation to start.”

“I don’t understand any of this,” Arya said.

“I still have a lot to learn, but this is not why I asked to talk to you out here. Bad things are happening, and I think we’re going to need your help before the end. Jon has gone to ask the Dragon Queen for help. She will say yes, this I have seen, but on the condition that he bends the knee and gives up his crown. The north will not be happy, but we do need her help. The world will be lost if she doesn’t bring her armies and her dragons. She will also bring the allies she has already made from Westeros, the Iron Born, The Tyrell’s and all their banners, and Lord Baratheon and his banners from the Stormlands.”

“What do we do then?” Arya asked, “Why do you need me?”

“That is unclear at the moment. But as more information is revealed, the way forward becomes more obvious. In the meantime, I think you should go and see Sansa, and then you need to introduce us both to our nephew.”


End file.
